Comfort and Warmth
by Reaper Nanashi
Summary: It really was good that Yūma did not mind explaining things; as impatient as he was in some circumstances, he was actually rather well-suited to education in most cases, and had only become more so as he and Astral had grown used to each other. But not everything Yūma taught Astral was conveyed with words, so it was a good thing Astral was such an attentive student.
1. Comfort

**Author's Notes:** Crossposted on AO3. A pair of one-shots to be posted a week apart.

To be honest, I haven't seen much of ZEXAL except the first few episodes that are on YouTube, what's showing on PlutoTV (where there's little in the way of reliable episode order) and a few subs I've found. From that I noticed a lot of parallels between Astral and Atem as well as similarities between Yūgi and Yūma, and I had sort of wanted to do a quick fic based on a revelation made in one of the last couple of episodes that would get the urge to write a longer fic out of my system (which is now the second one-shot). Then on tumblr I came across a fantastic piece of art by Stella B.: "Home Is Where The Heart Is," and that was how this first one-shot ended up happening.

**Pairing(s):** Technically nothing beyond a very close Yūma/Astral friendship, but this first one-shot is based on a keyshipping pic, so it can be subtle keyshipping if that's what you're into. Personally, I just don't see how a thirteen-year-old and a largely socially inept alien could properly identify—let alone act on—any romantic inclinations they might feel, but hey, YMMV.

**Word Count:** 857

**Spoilers:** Not this one, but the next one.

**Date Submitted:** 6/28/19

**Claimer/Disclaimer:** I'm pretty sure I wouldn't be posting on a fan site if I weren't just a fan. :P

* * *

The necessity of sleep was a strange thing to Astral. To be sure, it was not that Astral himself did not sleep, but he did not need to sleep nearly as often or as long as Yūma did, or even in accordance with any sort of planetary cycle, and it was those things that confused him. Moreover, Yūma slept _very_ deeply for most of any given night, and Astral could not wake him without significant effort. Fortunately, it was quite rare that a situation required Yūma's attention during those times.

Still, there were particularly strange things about Yūma's sleep that Astral could not help observing. Such as how it was not always still and quiet. He had asked Yūma about it.

"It's kind of creepy that you're watching me while I sleep."

"I am merely curious."

"I'm probably dreaming," Yūma had told him, around a mouthful of rice. "Or having a nightmare."

That answer had forced Astral to ask what the difference between a dream and a nightmare was. It really was a good thing that Yūma did not mind explaining such things; as impatient as he was in some circumstances, he was actually rather well-suited to education in most cases, and had only become more so as he and Astral had grown used to each other.

Another quirk of Yūma's sleep was that he did not like thunderstorms at all. Rain he did not appear to mind in the slightest, and he seemed to be fine with thunderstorms as long as he was awake, but once he fell asleep there was something about the latter that upset him. Astral supposed it was mainly the volume of the thunder; sometimes the decibel level was fantastic, and he had seen Yūma flinch violently—but not awaken—in response to particularly loud bursts, so it made sense that if his subconscious heard a storm approaching then the simple anticipation of loud noise would cause him distress. Large trucks—though rare were the days when they passed the house—had a similar effect, and volume was really the only similarity between them and thunderstorms.

What Astral discovered sometime afterward, quite by accident, was that Yūma had a definite awareness of his proximity and would respond to that as well. Happily, it seemed that Astral's presence was soothing to Yūma, as it appeared the latter became calmer while in the throes of what the former presumed were nightmares. After some experimentation Astral determined that he did not have to speak to or touch Yūma, but he often did both because it appeared to help; after a moment, Yūma would settle down with a sigh. There was a like but weaker reaction when a thunderstorm came by. The most important part was that Yūma was always more refreshed the morning following when Astral had been in contact with him; he studied better and dueled better, and in general was happier and more energetic but at the same time slightly less spastic, much to the relief of his friends and family.

Thus Astral found himself occupying otherwise lonely or boring nights with constant sleep, weather, and traffic monitoring. Whenever he identified anything that upset Yūma's sleep, he would immediately go to Yūma and try to quiet him. Things like thunderstorms typically required longer tending, and sometimes the nightmares would restart or a second one would come, so for those Astral determined that it was easier to settle into the hammock with Yūma for the long term. Through further observation he noticed that by lying on the side nearer the exterior wall, putting an arm around Yūma, and letting his legs drape over the human's, he provided Yūma with the most comfort. More comfort than even speaking to him. Astral was then free to let his vigilance slip a bit, and he would watch the stars or sleep for a while himself.

It was not a secret, what Astral was doing, but he still did not bother to tell Yūma that he did what he did. So for a long time Yūma was entirely unaware of it. But the not-really-a-secret did not go unknown for long. One unpleasant night there was what Yūma would have called a "double whammy"—a nightmare during a thunderstorm. Astral did what had become routine in response to Yūma's nighttime anxieties and, after ensuring that his presence was indeed having an effect, decided to close his eyes for a few hours. When he awakened the storm was there still, but much quieter and more distant. He watched the lightning flash for a few minutes, then checked on Yūma.

Who was gazing at him in silence.

"You are awake," he noted. "Is something wrong?"

"Why are you doing this?" Yūma asked. Not annoyed or suspicious, just curious.

Astral explained his observations and subsequent actions, then queried, "Was that incorrect?"

Yūma blinked, and followed it with a smile. "No. You just keep being you, Astral."

Astral watched Yūma curl a little into his side and drift off. He continued to observe, until he was certain Yūma was asleep, before he turned his attention back to the world beyond the attic window.

* * *

**Finis**

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If you find this fic to be somewhat fine, please take the time to drop me a line!

~RN (LS)


	2. Warmth

**Author's Notes:** Crossposted on AO3.

This one-shot technically takes place immediately post-series—what I figure happened when Yūma and the crew make it to Astral World to help with whatever that giant cloud-hand was about. But it's vague enough that it could be any other preferred span of separation, too.

**Word Count:** 836

**Spoilers:** For a comment Astral makes at the end of the series. Not quoted directly, but pretty much the entire point of this one-shot.

**Date Submitted:** 7/5/19

* * *

_There you are._

That was the thought Astral could remember thinking upon seeing Yūma for the first time, but initially it had not possessed even the slightest bit of context. Given its apparent irrelevance he had easily dismissed it, and for a long time the thought had squatted in the darkness of the back of his mind, ignored in favor of gathering the cards and memories that might be able to give it the context it lacked.

Yet none of the memories did, and the three words had eventually faded into obscurity.

Then later, during their final duel, as Yūma performed a shining draw all on his own, the same words had come back to Astral's mind with the same certainty as before:

_There you are._

It had taken shape then—not a memory as much as an understanding. Everything that was Yūma Tsukumo was everything Astral lacked, a type of chaos entirely unlike what Don Thousand had infected him with. Warm and excitable, its infectiousness was not insidious as much as gently insistent—a playful, nagging refusal to be put aside for later that was somehow still respectful of his right to focus on other things. Something that felt so friendly and nonthreatening to even Astral's programming and sense of identity had to be of the Self; the chaos in each lifeform was unique, which meant he would have been in conflict with even the chaos of one of Yūma's friends even though he had no particular concern about their chaos actually being harmful. But to not be in conflict with Yūma's chaos on any level had to mean that it was his own as well.

It also explained how Astral could feel so safe—indeed, prefer to be—in the care of the chaotic entity that Yūma was apparently unable to avoid being. But feel safe he did, even in moments when Yūma seemed to be at his most reckless. And when they used the power of ZEXAL, their unity meant the feeling was magnified.

Further, Don Thousand could never have infected him to begin with without first filling some sort of void that had been formed. And it had to have been formed, because chaos was the source of life; there had to have been some measure of chaos inside Astral at the moment of his creation or he would never have been able to exist. Yet for Don Thousand to successfully place a different chaos inside him, his own chaos had to have been lost by that point. The only time that could have happened was immediately following their duel, when everything—including Astral's entire being—had been shaken half to pieces.

It was funny to feel a shred of gratitude to Don Thousand. Because despite the problems it had caused, as it poisoned him that foreign chaos had nevertheless kept Astral alive for long enough that he could find his own again. Rather, that it could find him. It was strange, how that had worked out.

That was why the more Astral had thought about the possibility of Yūma being part of him the less he had been able to refute it, until he had finally had no choice but to accept the evidence presented.

It puzzled him at times, the knowledge that, technically, his proper personality and behaviors were largely just toned-down versions of Yūma's. That said, Yūma's not-incorrect observation when they saved Alito from Don Thousand—that Astral was beginning to sound like Yūma—had shown he was already part of the way there even at that point. Since they were still separate individuals they would probably never be too much like the other, but he did find some comfort in knowing that he had a little bit of Yūma with him despite the dimensional barriers that kept them apart most of the time since Don Thousand had been defeated again.

"Astral! Hey, _Astral_!"

Astral stopped promptly, because he knew there would be a head-on collision. In any collision, the speed of impact was determinable by adding together the speeds of participating objects, from which could be approximated the severity of likely damage. So by stopping, he was reducing the overall damage that would be done. And it had to be him, because there was no way the other object in the equation would ever, _ever_ think of something like that or otherwise exercise anything remotely resembling caution.

Because caution, Astral had noted some time ago, was _his_ job.

Sure enough, that blur of color and pointy hair slammed into him at a full and oblivious speed. Long arms wrapped around his ribs and _squeezed_ in greeting; fortunately, Astral did not really need to breathe or he might have been in dire straits. And he, without hesitation, returned that hug full of unconditional love in silence. Because there was nothing either one had to say to the other—not when the most important words could instead be spoken with the simplest and most human of gestures.

_There you are._

* * *

**Finis**

* * *

If you find this fic to be somewhat fine, please take the time to drop me a line!

~RN (LS)


End file.
